


Come Home

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After not finishing the Trials, Sam’s in a bad way & Dean’s left with little to no hope in pulling him back out of the mysterious coma he fell into. As Dean struggles to find a way to bring Sam home to him, Sam struggles to find his way back to his brother when given a choice of returning home to Dean or moving on. *Sick/hurt/comatose!Sam & Upset/worried/freaked out/angsty/protective!Dean* Set after 8x23-Sacrifice & before 9x1. See note and warnings for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language of course. I’m also laying a tissue warning on this one so it may require them for some. Also, despite appearances this is not a death fic so don’t worry.  
> Spoilers: While it may contain spoilers for those who haven’t see all of Season 8 yet it may also hold some minor spoilers for season 9…maybe.   
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the boys or anything to do with them. This is written just for the enjoyment of fans.  
> Author Note: I don’t often write stories before the season starts unless the muse and the plot bunny picks something out. This piece is loosely based on the spoilery picture released this week of Sam in the hospital. How I bring him out of it is all from my imagination since I have no clue how the writers will do it. This is just my take on a really sick and hurt Sam. I may do another one but we’ll see.  
> Enjoy it and look me up on Facebook under morgana07 for comments, questions or to chat. Thanks.

“Are you saying my brother’s life is in God’s hands?”

In thirty-four years of life Dean Winchester had heard a lot of things from a lot of people but nothing went straight through his already clenching heart like the words of the doctor staring across his unconscious and dying brother’s hospital bed.

“Mr. Winchester, we’ve run every conceivable test on your brother and regardless of how his condition continues to deteriorate we can’t find any reason for it; much less a way to heal him,” the doctor was grim as he faced the older Winchester, though a touch of understanding lit his eyes. “We will keep trying but…I just wanted to let you know the realistic outcome so you could prepare yourself or call any family.”

“I’m all the family Sam has left, Doctor,” Dean gritted his teeth against the pain of that because as he sat down on the chair by the bed to stare at his pale faced brother and took in all the wires attached to Sam it nearly broke that last barrier he’d shoved up against the pain that wanted to come as he knew if his little brother died that whatever the hell was happening out there would need to find a new savior because he’d eat the barrel of his damn gun.

Scrubbing both hands over his face, Dean slumped back in the chair to try to recall how in the hell they’d gotten here but a look at Sam told him only too well how he’d allowed them to come to this place in their lives again.

“Trying to save the goddamn world again is how I’m facing losing my brother…again,” he muttered to the room that was empty save for his unconscious brother and himself, the only sounds present were the constant beeping, hissing or dripping of the machines that kept Sam alive, monitored and hydrated as he continued to waste away from whatever the damn trials had done to him.

Dean had never once thought that doing the three trials to close the gates to Hell would be easy, though he had less concern when he’d originally planned to be the one to actually do the damn things. It wouldn’t have made a difference to him how the trials turned out, stopping them or not, if it had been his life on the line.

That had been Dean’s plan in the start when their geek of a Prophet had broken the code on the tablet. He planned to do the trials, slam the door on Crowley’s mug and that horrible accent, take whatever came…good or bad, just so Sam could have the chance to finally have normal and leave hunting behind.

That had been the plan…until his well-meaning baby brother failed to listen to him about staying inside and came out to the barn to not only save Dean’s life from the very Hellhound they needed to kill but killed the damn ugly hell-mutt and took the trials onto his already too heavily laden shoulders.

It took nearly losing Sam to Purgatory to make Dean begin to put things in perspective again. He and Sam had been tense since Dean’s return from Purgatory and all for reasons that had been beyond his brother’s control really.

Dean wasn’t certain was really had started to tilt things back to where they’d been years earlier; if it had been meeting Henry, their father’s Dad, or finding out about the Men of Letters legacy that seemed to fit Sam to a tee or watching Sam’s health begin to fail the longer the trials went.

The only thing he knew was that he’d almost allowed saving the world from demons cost him his brother because what no one had known was that the fine print of the trials meant closing the gates of Hell would also kill the person doing them.

Dean had known something about the creepy sweater wearing Angel who’d written the tablets had made him wary but when Naomi told him finally that Sam would die if he completed the third trial nothing else mattered to him except stopping his brother…and he had. He just hadn’t realized that everything would fall apart soon afterward.

Sam’s emotional confession in the church had broken Dean’s heart but it had allowed him to express his own to his brother fully for the first time in a long while and he’d almost been able to convince himself when Sam had given in to the hug that he’d pulled his brother back from the brink of destruction again…until he screamed and collapsed that is.

“Damn it,” he muttered, stilling feeling the fever coursing through Sam’s body as he half dragged and half carried him out of the church where Crowley had still been chained to fall against the Impala even as the night sky literally opened above them as it seemed all of Heaven suddenly emptied with angels falling, burning to Earth.

The elder Winchester had no clue what had happened up there. If Castiel had done it or if something else had happened or where in the hell their Angel in the trenchcoat was right then and as much as Dean knew he should care, and he did on same level, all his thoughts were locked on his brother.

When Sam had started to convulse and throw up blood he knew Sam needed more help than he could give him there or back at the bunker where Dean hoped Kevin still was so a fast trip to the closest hospital had been in order and that was literally the ride from Hell as far as Dean was concerned.

Sam only regained semi-consciousness once and only enough to cling to Dean’s hand much like he had as a little boy when sick and scared. It had been easy to offer mindless reassurances to him as he drove or it had been until he looked next to him to see the fear, tears and finally the ultimate knowing of what was happening to him shining in huge glassy hazel eyes.

Dean reach over to slip the cold limp hand lying flat on the bed into his hand as if hoping feeling the strength of his grip would be enough to will his dying brother to come home.

“Sammy, c’mon man. Don’t do this. You can fight whatever the hell this is. You’ve fought worse than this,” Dean didn’t even realize how raw and shaky his voice was when he spoke as he squeezed the unresponsive hand. “Come home to me, little brother. Don’t you dare leave me like this. I mean, looks like all the Angels got kicked outta Heaven. Do you really wanna be stuck up there with Ash and Bobby?”

He refused to even once entertain the thought that Sam would not go to Heaven because his little brother might have made some mistakes and his life might have been screwed up from the night he was six months old when a damn demon infected him with demon blood but as far as Dean was concerned Sam had cleared the slate more than once.

Castiel had once said the trials were affecting Sam on levels that not even he could heal. Dean hadn’t liked that then and now as he sat in yet another hospital room watching his brother’s chest rise and fall slowly, shallowly, he really didn’t like it.

It had been too long since Sam had slipped into what the doctors called an unknown unresponsive coma and Dean feared it would only be a short time before either Sam’s body gave out or a white coated doctor walked into the room with the face that he knew meant he’d need to make a decision.

Since hunting had been his life for more years now than he actually liked to think about, Dean supposed he’d been lucky in some ways. Oh, he’d seen the inside of places like this more than he liked but he’d always walked out of them.

Sure there had been a couple times when it had been a close call but he’d always walked out. As had Sam. The times when his little brother almost hadn’t were still vivid in Dean’s mind because while he honestly expected hunting to claim his life one day he’d always fought to make sure it didn’t claim his brother.

This damn life had claimed nearly everyone else they loved, friends and family, and to sit by helplessly to watch the only person left in his life that made going on, that made wanting to carry on the family tradition worthwhile slip further away broke him.

“Okay, chick flick rule locked down for now and I hope in some way you can hear me, Sammy,” he began slowly, feeling the hot tears on his face as he spoke but didn’t even both to wipe them away. “I need you to fight this. Wherever you are right now, I need you to fight and hold on. I will find a way to make this right, to make this better…to make you better.”

Dean reached into his pocket to pull out a black rubber like bracelet that they both used to wear and that he’d pulled from a duffel days earlier, slipping it over the wrist of the hand he held. “This mess, you being here now, is on me, Sammy. I never should’ve let you do that first spell. I should’ve stopped it until we could find another damn Hellhound and did the trials myself.

“Yeah, I won’t say we wouldn’t still be in a hospital but at least it would be my life fading away and I could live with that. You’ve always been able to slip back into normal and without me around to drag you down or around hunting things you could maybe find normal and stick with it,” his fingers tightened around Sam’s while watching the pale bruised face for any signs of life but finding none. “I’m…not like that and there is no normal for me if you die, Sammy.

“I’ve promised you so many damn times that nothing bad would happen to you so long as I was around. Well, it’s official. I suck at keeping that promise and with Heaven in an uproar and Crowley kind of…tied up…I know no one would deal with me but I will do everything in my power to make you better but you’ve got to hold on for me, Sam. You’ve got to want to live and know that I meant what I said to you back there,” Dean’s mind was reeling with ideas on how to fix this but nearly every idea he came up with was almost immediately rejected.

Reaching his other hand up to brush a stray piece of long sweaty hair back from his brother’s face, it shook Dean how fragile his brother once again seemed. It had been a long time since Sam had looked or been this sickly or weak looking and every big brother instinct in Dean was kicking up a storm to shield and protect if only he knew how.

Angels were out. Deal making with demons was out unless he wanted to trade Crowley for his brother’s life and even then Dean wasn’t sure if that would work since something told him maybe Hell wouldn’t been thrilled for the return of their so-called King.

Sam was on death’s door and… “ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he whispered when it hit him like a pitcher of ice water in the face the one thing he hadn’t considered trying, not that he was sure it would work either considering neither he nor Sam were exactly favorites of this particular entity.

“Sammy, I’ll be right back. I…I will be back, little brother. I’m not leaving you and if this backfires and you think you’re leaving me…it ain’t that simple,” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand firmly before reluctantly easing away. “I…I…love you, little brother. I’ll be back.”

Brushing fingers that shook over Sam’s face, Dean stepped out of the room with something akin to dread curling in his stomach; as if fearing that if he left something bad would happen but he couldn’t see anything worse than watching his brother dying and not being able to stop it.

The looks of the sad eyed nurses as they gave him furtive glances as he walked down the hall told him what he already knew. The staff knew Sam was dying and while they’d give proper lip service to the upset family member it was a lost cause in their eyes.

Sam had been a lost cause in the eyes of a lot of people in their lives it seemed but no matter the fights, the issues or problems they might have had in the last eight years he wasn’t a lost cause to Dean. He was his little brother.

He was still and would always be the little boy Dean taught to walk, to talk, to ride a bike, to shoot a gun when it finally come to that point because he wasn’t letting their often too brusque for his own good Dad teach Sam how to shoot.

Sammy wasn’t a lost cause to Dean and he’d find someone to save him no matter who he had to beg or what he had to promise to get it done.

The hospital chapel was small and dark with only a few candles burning to light it but that didn’t bother the elder Winchester. He didn’t need light for this, just privacy.

It seemed a little weird that it was him sitting down in the chapel when it had always been his brother who’d been the more religious one. Sam had always enjoyed being with Pastor Jim while he prepared his services or would just sit for hours asking Jim question after question to things that amazed Dean and amused the Holy man turned hunter.

Sam’s views on Angels had changed a little after he first met one and it still hurt Dean that a lot of his brother’s beliefs on Heaven and Hell had been taken away by from dickhead angels that only saw Sam for the choices their mother had made while trying to save their Dad years before either of them were even born.

Lighting a candle out of some long buried instinct that Jim Murphy had drilled into his head, Dean offered a silent pray that someone still in Heaven could at least take the time to look over Sam one more time.

Taking a deep breath, Dean wasn’t certain if this would work or not but it was one of his last options before he had to resort to trying the plan that involved the needle in his jacket. “Hey, it’s Dean Winchester,” he began slowly, closing his eyes as if that would help. “I…I need some help. I know you’ll give me the speech about natural selection and how Sam and I screw it up all the time but…c’mon, this is my little brother and by now you should now the things I’ll do for him.

“I don’t regret any of the choices I’ve made for Sam over the years and I won’t regret the choices I’ll make now to save him but I need help because I don’t know what’s wrong with him or how to bring him back from this,” he lifted his head to gaze at the ceiling, tears in his eyes and on his face. “He just tried to save the world again. He just tried to make me see a light of then end of the tunnel but I think the only light he’s seeing now is the one on the wrong end and…I will do anything you want if you just give him back to me.

“Sam’s been dragged down this crappy road not because he wanted it but because he had no choice. He didn’t choose to be infected with demon blood at six months old, he didn’t choose our Mom to die or Dad to go down the path he did to avenge her. He didn’t choose to be a hunter. I did. I chose it so maybe my brother could be normal but then I failed when by dragging him back because I needed someone.

“If you want to take this out on someone then take me. It should’ve been me doing these trials in the first damn place so if you want to take anyone, if anyone needs to pay for this, then let it be me,” Dean was grasping and he knew it but he also didn’t care right then.

He’d gone to Hell for Sam so trading his life for his brother’s with the actual Angel of Death wasn’t anything too out there for him.

“Take me but let him live…just let me see him open his eyes one more time and then you can have whatever pound of flesh you need from me. Please let him come home,” Dean’s voice choked on the last word but leaned back with a sigh.

Begging Death was never an exact science since the guy came and went when he wanted but it was all Dean knew to do except resort to using the blood he’d drawn from Crowley earlier.

He wasn’t sure what kind of effect, if any, it would have on Sam since part of the trial had been to inject Sam’s blood into the King of Hell to cure him and Dean wasn’t sure how the blood was now. He also suspected Sam wouldn’t be thrilled if he did that because he’d been so certain the trials had been cleansing him of the demon blood he’d been infected with as a child.

The blood was Dean’s last resort to try if nothing else would work but as he sat in the silent chapel it slowly became clear that he was very close to having to try it if only to save Sam’s life.

Slashing a hand over his face, he made his way back toward Sam’s room slowly. He’d made several hard choices in the course of his life in regards to Sam but nothing as hard as this one because while he wanted to save his brother, needed to save him, he also wasn’t certain if he could live with Sam hating him if he injected him with demon blood…even if it was diluted demon blood.

“I swear if I get him back I am locking him in a damn bubble so nothing like this happens again,” he muttered, nearing the room when suddenly it seemed like a block of ice grabbed his heart and nearly took him to his knees only a moment before alarms, sensors and people all started going crazy. “No…no.”

Fighting past the pain and the terror building, Dean broke into a run down the hall back to his brother’s room that seemed to be the focus of the noise and people all hurrying with carts, needles, tubes while doctors were using terms like cardiac arrest, bleeding internally and other things that merely served to send Dean further into panic.

“Sammy!” he shouted, taking another step only to have a nurse stop him with a hand to his chest. “He’s my brother! What’s…what’s happening?”

“He’s dying.”

The male voice from behind him had Dean whirling to face a young looking man in jeans, t-shirt and battered jacket leaning against the wall watching him with a grim face but understanding eyes and no matter that he looked an non-descript as any other person in the hospital Dean didn’t need to be a hunter to know what he was looking at.

He was staring at a Reaper of Death, one of those who came to collect souls chosen by Death to crossover and if he was here then it was plain that Dean’s time of saving his brother was running out.

“Sam is dying, Dean…and there is very little you can do now to save him. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes had narrowed, ice flooding his veins even as he could hear his brother’s heart monitor beeping like made before it suddenly went to a long straight steady sound and he whirled back around. “No…no…no! _Sammy_!”

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two **

****

“Dean? Dean, where are you? **_Dean_**!”

Sam Winchester stared around blankly. He recalled clearly being with Dean inside the Impala after his brother stopped him from completing the third trial that would’ve closed Hell for good and taken his life.

The young Winchester remembered the physical and emotional toll the trials had taken on him. He recalled his confession in the Church and the look on his big brother’s face when he told him what it had been.

Sam hadn’t wanted to stop. He hadn’t wanted to fail his brother yet again which in the end if why he gave in to Dean’s pleas to stop. It had been the most honest emotion Sam could recall hearing and seeing on his brother in several years and he’d felt safe when he gave in to return the hug Dean offered.

Of course as Sam also knew he was a Winchester and that always meant Murphy’s Law applied and something would go wrong if it could. It had and his memories after collapsing in agony were a little sparse except he could remember hearing and feeling Dean.

He’d seen the angels as they fell from Heaven, wondering how they’d get blamed for that, but then all he could hear was the rumble of the Impala and his brother’s deep voice trying to reassure him that everything would be alright even when Sam was sure it wasn’t going to be.

As he looked around the woods he was in to slowly realize he was alone here Sam was now fairly certain he was far, far from alright.

Pulling the collar of his jacket up around his neck to ward off the unusual chill that seemed to be soaking right through his bones, he shivered while automatically still calling for Dean because there could be only one solid reason for him to wake up someplace strange without his older brother and a sharp stab of fear went through Sam at the thought of being dead or dying.

Listening to the sound of the wind and birds in the surrounding trees should’ve been relaxing but all Sam did was wait for the pain to come or for the expected bright light and he couldn’t help thinking when he told Dean there was a light at the end of the tunnel he hadn’t seriously meant this tunnel or this light.

Sam thought he heard Dean calling him but his brother’s voice was too far away and dim for him to find it or reach for it and he wanted to reach for it. He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to leave Dean alone like this or for this reason because he wasn’t foolish enough not to know how his brother would react if he died.

The trials would claim his life even though he stopped them which meant that no matter how hard Sam had tried he’d still fail Dean. He failed to close Hell, he failed to cure Crowley and now he was failing to survive them, leaving his brother alone to face whatever the hell consequences would come from this.

“Face it, Sam. You’re as much a failure now as you ever were,” he muttered to himself, having to suddenly sit down under a tree when pain seared through his body much like it had in the church and he wished his brother could be with him here though admitting to be scared enough to want his older brother to hold his hand while he died would’ve made Sam embarrassed if he cared right then.

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared of dying and you’re far from a failure, son.”

Sam’s whole body stilled as he felt his heart nearly stick in his throat, looking up at who’d spoken and accepting he was on the wrong side of the tunnel. “Dad,” he breathed.

“Sam,” John Winchester looked exactly like Sam remembered from the last day they’d spoken in a hospital before he made a deal to save Dean’s life; the first thing that began the slow descent to Hell and back for both brothers.

Still rugged looking with the faint showing of gray in his black hair and beard, he had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket while keeping a safe distance from his youngest child as if not wanting to alarm Sam more than he already was.

The silence was huge as father and son looked at one another for a long moment before Sam finally took the chance to speak again. “Am…am I already dead?” he asked shakily, wondering if he’d at least had the chance to tell Dean goodbye one last time.

“No, you’re not dead yet but…it’s not good,” John admitted, inclining his head as if asking for permission to sit down. “You’re brother’s doing his best to find a way to save you but then I think you know that Dean won’t give up easily…it’s on your end to keep fighting to go home to him,” he concluded grimly.

A little stunned that his Dad was asking permission for anything, Sam merely nodded and then held his breath. It had never been a secret that Sam and John didn’t have a good relationship for a large part of Sam’s life.

It seemed like from the moment Sam became a teenager to the day he walked out the door to go to college it was constant fighting between them with Dean usually stuck in the middle.

Since then Sam’s actually begun to understand a lot of his Dad’s motives for being the way he was and while there was still issues he couldn’t yet forgive or forget he was glad to have even a short amount of time with his Dad even if it was only to say goodbye.

“You said I wasn’t a failure,” however was the first thing that popped out of his mouth and that was because Sam had never felt like he’d measured up to anything in John’s eyes. “You always said I would never be as good as Dean or…”

“I said a lot of things to you growing up that I shouldn’t have, Sam,” John began grimly, sitting down beside his son to look at his face and saw so much of the boy he’d once been in those lost hazel eyes. “It took dying to make me see how many errors I made in raising you and Dean, to let me see that pretty much from the night your Mom died that no matter how hard to tried to protect you boys I was ultimately leading you down the wrong path.

“I wanted to avenge your Mother, I wanted to find the thing that killed her and then when I realized what was out there I let my grief and loss drive me to justify saving other people the pain I suffered it was alright to forget how to be a proper father,” he turned the wedding ring on his finger. “I didn’t want to lose you boys like I’d lost Mary and I laid way too much responsibility on Dean when he was still basically a toddler but you seemed to respond more to him than you did me and I realized it had been Dean and Mary you were used to being around because I worked too long even back then.

“It took a long time to make me see that I’d raised soldiers instead of sons. I think it was the last night in the hospital while I just watched you sleep on a cot in your brother’s room because you’d not so politely refused to leave him alone now that he was off the machines that I saw it and finally understood why you and I fought so damn much,” John smiled a little, something that Sam knew he’d hardly seen growing up.

“What?” Sam asked, wondering if shapeshifters could infiltrate wherever he was currently because this was certainly not the father he grew up with. “We were still arguing in the hospital up until you…I mean…” he got it now why his Dad said he didn’t want to fight anymore.

John had known that morning that it would be the last time he’d be with his boys and hadn’t wanted his and Sam’s last words to be harsh. Sam wished he’d thought of that then since he could still recall his horror at finding his Dad’s body lying on a floor in an empty room.

“The last night as I watched you and Dean sleep I realized so many of my mistakes, Sam but the one I realized the most was what you’d been trying to tell me for so many years even before I drove you away from your brother,” John’s smile was calm while he watched his son’s face as he went on. “I was more of a Drill Sergeant. Dean was more of a father to you. Dean did raise you and you and I were basically strangers because when I was around all I did was bark orders at you.”

Sam could vividly recall the night he left for college and the shock on his Dad’s face when he’d thrown it out that Dean had raised him. “I…want to say I was wrong but…” even now to Sam’s mind when he thought of who’d raised him and taught him to be the man he was today he could only picture his brother’s face. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered, tensing automatically when a firm hand gripped his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for who you feel, Sam…especially when you were right. I spent your life hunting and trying to make you and Dean into hunters even though I knew it’s not what you wanted. So, I’m proud of the man Dean taught you to be…even though you have a lot of me and Mary in you that I also didn’t see until it was too late,” John chuckled, leaning his head back against the tree. “I used to say you and Dean got your stubbornness from your Mom but there are times when I see a lot of me in you too, especially when you brood.”

There was something relaxing about sitting here with his Dad like this until the pain went up his arm again to make him clamp his teeth together to keep the cry of pain inside when a hand covered the one he’d placed on his arm. “I…I don’t wanna die, Dad,” he murmured softly, hating to admit this fear to his Dad since John had always taught them to shield such things. “I don’t wanna leave Dean like this cause I’m…afraid of what he’ll do.”

“I know, Sammy,” John sighed, squeezing his son’s hand under his as if to help him over the pain while hating to see his youngest boy in such pain. “I’m sorry you and your brother have had to go through all this. I’m sorry I didn’t choose another path when I still had the chance.”

“It wasn’t all your fault, Dad,” Sam replied when the pain eased off and he could speak again. “As Dean and I learned our lives had been pretty much decided on even before you and Mom met. You were just led along to make sure things played out as planned,” he grinned a little. “I just don’t think Heaven or Hell planned on how stubborn my big brother could be.”

John laughed at that, rubbing his hand up Sam’s arm when he felt him shivering. “Yeah, that side of Dean came from Mary without a doubt but I’m glad of it. You know what’s happening to you, Sammy?”

“It’s still Sam. Only Dean gets to call me Sammy,” the correction was mild and automatic from years of doing it. “Whatever’s inside me from doing the trials is still killing me even though I didn’t complete them. I should’ve just finished the trial cause if I’m still going to die it seems a waste and…Dean’ll be in more danger cause Hell is still open cause I failed to…”

“Sam, you didn’t fail,” John broke in firmly, using the stern tone Sam was more used to hearing from him. “If you would’ve finished that trial you would’ve been dead anyway and your brother would still be alone to face what’s coming,” he shifted to take his son’s chin in his hand so he could hold his eyes. “You’re in bad shape and I won’t lie to you by saying the odds are good but you do still have a chance to make it back to your brother if you don’t give in before.”

Sam blinked while trying to understand what his father meant when it slowly hit him. The pain, the guilt he’d been holding for so long, the inner fear of Dean walking away or replacing him again were all things that had worn him down toward the end of the trials and had been things that had made him want to finish it.

He didn’t want to let his brother down by failing in the trials after Sam had assured Dean that he could do them. He also didn’t want to be around to see what he’d be replaced with again but Sam believed Dean when he’d told him that nothing would ever be placed above him. He believed Dean then and he wanted to believe that his brother was with him now.

“Dean’s beside you, son,” John assured him as if seeing his thoughts and fears. “He hasn’t left your side. He’s scared too, Sam, but Dean won’t give up on you and he’ll do whatever he feels he has to if it means saving you. Remember that and keep listening for him,” he stood up to extend a hand. “Do you remember these woods?”

At first Sam thought they were just generic woods though he couldn’t figure out why he’d be in the woods to begin with since camping was not high on either his or Dean’s list of things to do but something about them now pulled his memory.

He seemed to recall being little, before he learned the truth of what his Dad did, and being in a tent with Dean when it started to storm but he’d eventually shrugged that off as a childish nightmare…until now.

“You took us camping…here,” he looked around at the clearing surrounded by trees he was in as John watched the amazing process of his son’s mind at work. “I was probably…six and Dean was ten and it was so unreal for me because you were actually around for once. You burnt hotdogs in the fire but we still ate ‘em cause Dean told me that you’d cry if we didn’t and I…I didn’t want to see you cry,” Sam’s smile was shy as he glanced over at his father.

“Then you let us eat the marshmallows before cooking them and it was the best weekend I could remember having cause we were all together,” Sam closed his eyes and could hear the thunder of the storm, recalling how scared he’d been and how Dean had tried to be brave to keep him calm. “Dean let me sleep with him but when it got worse you came and slept in our tent and…”

The sudden lump in his throat made it hard to speak because that was one of the few times he could remember his Dad holding them both and just making up stories until the storm passed. “I used to ask Dean why we never camped again with you and I think because he didn’t know he made up that he didn’t like camping and because my big brother didn’t like it I didn’t like it anymore either but I…still missed it and often wondered if because I’d gotten so scared of the storm is why you didn’t take us anymore.”

“No, Sam. I didn’t take you boys camping anymore just because I got too busy with hunting and other things that never should’ve come between me and my boys,” John stepped up to place a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it warmly. “When you go back and you will, if Dean has a say in it and you fight for it, will go back… tell your brother to take you camping and remind him that I wouldn’t have burned those hotdogs if he hadn’t been trying to make you into bait for some kind of thing he invented to scare you.”

That made Sam laugh because it seemed so much like something his older brother would do. “What do I do, Dad?” he asked slowly, understanding somehow that his time with John was about up. “You can’t stay with me, can you?”

“God, I haven’t heard you ask me that since you were probably six or seven and not wanting me to leave you and Dean with Jim one time,” John was startled at how much that simple question tore at his heart and how much he wished he could protect this grown young man that he would still always see as the newborn laying in Mary’s arms. “As much as I want to stay with you for this, son…I can’t, but you’ll find others along the way to help you until you reach then end. Just remember to listen for your brother, Sam.”

It seemed to Sam liked he’d been listening for his brother’s voice since he was little. “Dad?” he turned to grab his Dad’s arm like he couldn’t remember doing since he’d been small. “In case I…I don’t see you again or anything I just want you to know I…I…love you and I’m sorry I didn’t try to understand better.”

“You did everything you could at the time, Sam. Nothing was ever your fault and I’m proud of the man you’ve become,” John stepped forward to reach out and hug his son fully, silently hoping his boys could get through this latest hurdle. “I love you too and so does your Mom. Now get going. You don’t want to keep Dean waiting too long or who knows the trouble he’ll get into.”

Sam knew only too well the kind of trouble his brother could get into without him, especially if he was trying to find a way to save Sam and nodded, stepping through the tree line to blink at the sudden burst of pain that shot up his arm and nearly took him to his knees if not for a hand on his shoulder.

“Sweetie, didn’t I ever give you or your brother my patented lecture on staying out of trouble?”

It took several breaths for Sam to be able to stand fully. Then it was just a matter of working up the nerve to open his eyes to look down into the motherly smiling face of Ellen Harvelle. “Hi, Ellen,” he murmured, beginning to see a pattern developing here. “Am I going to see everyone I’ve let down in some way?” he asked, suddenly tired.

“You didn’t let me down, Sam and you’ll see whoever it is you need to see,” Ellen smoothed back the boy’s hair while eyeing its length with a critical eye. “You know I’d have thought Dean would be all over you to cut this because if it gets much longer it’ll be as long as Jo’s,” he commented, leading him over to a stool by the bar that the hurt hunter realized was Harvelle’s Roadhouse before demons burned it down.

“He has and has threatened me with clippers a few times,” Sam eased onto a stool to rub his arm, shivering again with the cold and blinking at the slightly louder but still dim voice shouting for him. “He’s scared,” he knew this without even being able to hear his brother clearly. “Dean hardly ever gets scared, Ellen.”

Sitting on the stool beside him, the shorter dark haired woman who’d hovered over both Winchesters like a surrogate mother gazed at him with a gentle smile. “He does, Sam. You just don’t ever get to see it when Dean’s scared because when he’s scared it’s usually over you.”

“I guess I’ve given him plenty of reasons then over the years,” Sam sighed, rubbing his arm when his fingers brushed over the black rubber like bracelet that he was a little startled to see. “I don’t want to die and leave him like this, Ellen but I also can’t help but wonder if Dean wouldn’t be better off without me or OW!” he yelped at the not so gentle slap to his head.

“Do you honestly believe that, Sam?” she demanded firmly, recalling the late night phone conversations she and Bobby Singer had over these two boys who often could drive her nuts faster than her own daughter could. “Dean will self-destruct without you. That is one boy who does not do alone well, especially when it means not having you.

“Has he ever told you how many times he nearly ate that gun when you were in the Cage? Did Bobby ever mention how worried he was over Dean drinking too much that year he didn’t have you or that he’d either wrap the Impala around a pole or actually find a spell that would allow him to enter the Cage with you?” Ellen could see the flashes of emotions in those deep eyes and knew Sam hadn’t known any of that. “Sweetie, Dean lives for you and without you now that Bobby’s gone I doubt if Dean would live much longer than an hour after you die.”

That’s what Sam was afraid of but he also wasn’t sure if he could come back from whatever is wrong with him. “Something happened to me during the Trials, Ellen. Something changed and…it’s not happy that I didn’t finish them. I want to be with Dean. I want to keep hunting with him and I don’t want to let him face whatever is happening now alone but…I don’t know how to go home,” he murmured, fingers picking at the bracelet restlessly like he used to do before looking up at her with tears in his eyes. “I want my brother, Ellen. I want to go home.”

“Then you go out that door and listen for him, Sam,” Ellen replied, hugging this man that was still much a boy in her heart while smoothing a hand through his hair as he held on to her one last time. “You listen for Dean and you let go of the guilt because everything that happened back then had a reason. I never once held it against you boys what happened with Jo and me. My girl would’ve protected Dean just like you would’ve and I’m proud of both you boys. Now get moving before you get me crying more than I already am.”

Sam’s smile was shaky as he stood up but held on for another moment longer. “I never knew my Mom, Ellen… but I used to like to think she wouldn’t mind it that one of the reasons I liked going to the Roadhouse was because you never looked at me any differently,” he took a breath. “I told Jo once that I envied her because she at least had a Mom who loved her and looked after her.”

“Well now you did it,” Ellen’s eyes filled with tears as she reached up to cup his face in both hands. “I never knew Mary but I think I can say that she loved you and as far as I was concerned you and your brother were the sons I never had…though I would’ve shot Dean if he would’ve put any moves on Jo.”

“Dean was scared of you,” Sam laughed, feeling a little better now. “Thanks for being here, Ellen. We miss you and Jo…and Ash.”

“Now you’re just lying to be nice,” Ellen smiled, giving him a gentle nudge. “Out the door and listen for Dean, honey. He’s getting desperate now so it’ll also come down to you accepting and understand that whatever he does now he did it to save you. Don’t hold that against him because you know in your heart the things that you’d do for him.”

Not sure he understood that, Sam did know what he’d be willing to do and the things he had done for Dean in the past and so figured there was very little now that could upset or worry him barring demon deals. “Bye, Ellen,” he looked back once as he opened the door but was quickly surrounded by pain shooting through his body, his brother’s broken voice screaming for him now and begging him to not let go before things began to settle down.

“Shit, this is getting worse,” he groaned as he held his arm against his chest, realizing that with each door he exits his brother’s voice was louder.

Dean’s voice was too the point that Sam could read the emotion and knew something was very wrong for Dean to sound like he was now.

“Wanna go home,” Sam whispered to himself, keeping his eyes closed as the pain once again subsided and slowly came to realize that he was lying flat on his back on a soft surface. “Where am I now?” he opened his eyes to look up at a ceiling and then he was rolling off the bed with a gasp. “No, not here. Anywhere else but here.”

“You didn’t used to think of this place like that.”

“Yeah, that was probably before I watched you burn on the ceiling…Jess,” Sam looked to the door and was shocked that he was curling in on himself with a violent sob because even now, nearly nine years since that fateful night, it still brought pain to see Jessica.

Blond, perky and beautiful was what Sam thought when he first met Jessica Lee Moore and what he still thought on the few times these days when he allowed himself to think of her.

The petite blond was wearing the same shorts and Smurfs shirt she wore the night Dean broke into the apartment, the last night Sam had seen her alive.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say, fingers gripping the bracelet tighter as if drawing strength from his brother who had given it to him. “Jess, if I’d known what would happen I never would’ve gotten involved with you.”

“I loved you, Sam. Even if Brady hadn’t introduced us I would have pestered you until you asked me out,” Jessica replied with an easy smile, sitting on the bed much like she would when studying and held out a hand to him. “It’s okay to sit here with me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

That wasn’t the issue for Sam. The memories in this room, of seeing Jessica on the ceiling, was the issue but slowly he took the hand to sit on the edge of the bed but kept positioned that he could move if he had to.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she spoke before he could and then grinned at his look of disbelief. “It wasn’t. You didn’t know what Brady had become or why he introduced us. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“If I hadn’t left with Dean, if I’d have stayed here…” Sam had used to try to convince himself of this years ago as well but his brother’s reasoning had also been sound…and so was Jessica’s.

“If you had stayed you could’ve been killed or hurt or worse, Sam,” she argued softly, placing a hand over one of his clenched fists. “They wanted you. I knew that.”

Sam shook his head sadly, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together loosely. “You didn’t know what I was or what I came from, Jess. You had no idea the dangers following me that I thought I’d left behind when I went to Stanford. You had no clue the real reason my brother came for me the night he did or…”

“I might not have known everything but I do know the real reason Dean came to the apartment the night he did, Sam,” Jessica’s smile turned a little sad and she chewed on her lip like she would when uneasy. “Maybe the reason he gave you, looking for your father, was true and served as a valid excuse but it wasn’t the honest reason your brother came to Stanford.”

Reaching up to stroke her fingers through his long hair, Jessica smiled as she watched Sam’s face try to figure out her words. “Dean came to Stanford for more than just to ask you to help him look for your Dad. He came for you.”

“Yeah, because he wanted me to help him look for Dad,” Sam was having a hard time focusing as the pain in his body seemed to increase but when Jessica eased off the bed to go to the dresser to remove a battered envelope he’d kept hidden in case of emergencies he frowned. “Jess?”

“Dean came to Stanford the night he did, he came to get you when he did because I called him, Sam,” the young blond woman brought the envelope back as she sat back down. “You never spoke of your family normally but one time when you were really sick you did. You talked about your brother mostly and toward the end of senior year when I noticed that Brady was acting weirder than normal I started paying more attention.”

Jessica dumped the envelope out even though Sam knew what was in it. Pictures of him and Dean, a card with all of his brother’s cell phone numbers on it and a letter of who to call in case of serious emergencies but he hadn’t known she’d ever found it.

“One day I was helping out in the library when I heard Brady talking with someone about you. He was saying things were progressing fine and that you were so blind to what was going on he could step in and kill you without you even suspecting anything. That after Halloween it would be time to take the next step in the plan and I didn’t know what he meant but it didn’t sound good so…I spent one whole day when you thought I was helping plan the Halloween bash calling every damn number on this card until he answered,” she touched Sam’s face as he stared at her.

“I told him who I was, what I’d heard and I don’t know if he believed me or not but when I said I was scared for you that’s when he said he come. Sam…did you ever wonder why I wasn’t a bit more alarmed at the sight of some strange guy in our apartment that night?” Jessica shook off the mild bitchface Sam was now working up to give her as this all began to sink in. “I didn’t know the how or why but I knew you needed to be away from Stanford and your brother came for you.”

Sam was now dead certain nothing else he ever learned in his life would knock him on his ass like this one had. “You called Dean?” he stared at her nod, trying to make sense of this. “Why didn’t you tell me what you’d heard, Jess?”

“Would you have called your brother? Would you have left if I had told you that I thought Brady was up to something weird and might be planning to hurt you?” Jessica asked him, one fine brow raised like she did when calling his bluff. “No, because Brady was your friend and even if you had believed me you would’ve tried to handle it on your own and…I loved you, Sam…I wanted to keep you safe.”

“What about keeping yourself safe, Jess?” Sam demanded, pushing off the bed while ignoring the pain. “By getting me out you left yourself wide open for him. Why didn’t you leave?”

Jessica crossed to him to take his hands and look up into his eyes with a look of calm and sadness. “I had left, Sam. I was going to my parents but…Brady caught up before I was even off campus and…I wish you hadn’t come home but I think that was their plan of last resort.

“Brady bragged all about it. He tried to convince me I’d love a demon, that you weren’t human but…no, look at me,” her one hand lifted his face. “No matter what else, I knew you Sam Winchester and I loved you. You were sweet, funny, loving, innocent and so damn miserable at times that it hurt me to watch you long for a life you wanted and hated but then I realized it wasn’t whatever past you’d left you missed but…”

“Dean,” Sam murmured thickly, remembering how much he’d missed his brother those four years and even with Jessica he’d never stopped missing Dean or wishing for the courage to pick up the phone once just to call him. “I didn’t think you’d picked up on that.”

Rolling her eyes, Jessica laughed softly. “We lived together for close to three years, Sam. I could tell that even though he liked school, liked the thought of going into Law School and loved me…I knew deep down none of it really made you happy,” she stepped into his arms as they closed around her carefully. “You wouldn’t have been happy, Sam. Eventually not even I would’ve been enough to make you happy.”

Sam hadn’t wanted to hunt or maybe it had been that he hadn’t cared for hunting under his Dad’s rules because he hadn’t really bitched about it as much when he and Dean hunted together. He thought he’d wanted to go to college and maybe he had but also as he thought more on it now, thought of the classes he took, everything he learned in one way or another helped him and Dean hunt better.

“I loved you so much, Jess,” he whispered into her hair, smelling the same perfume and shampoo as he always had when close to her. “I wish you hadn’t been dragged into my world or that I’d told you the truth about my life, my family. I’m sorry you…died.”

“I died because I helped you to survive, Sam,” Jessica kissed him softly. “I never hated you for it. I never blamed you. I was dead long before you stepped foot back into this apartment that night. I’m just glad Dean came back for you again and I’m glad he’s waiting for you now,” she seemed to be able to hear what Sam could now clearly hear as well as she smiled. “He knows some interesting words, doesn’t he?”

Hearing his panicked older brother cursing something that wasn’t Sam made the younger Winchester grin. “He didn’t pick up school too well but he can curse like a sailor in about four languages and he’s all I’ve got left, Jess,” he eyed the apartment that had never felt like home to him. “I thought if given a choice of living with all the pain and crap we do every day to being with you finally it would be an easy choice but…it’s not.

“I was ready to give my life if it meant closing Hell for good and maybe giving Dean a chance for normal again but…now all I want is to find the way home. I’m tired but I want to hunt with my brother and I’m not ready to die,” Sam’s eyes closed as they kissed one final time, a tender kiss between two people that had once been so young and in love. “I won’t forget you or what you gave me back then, Jess.”

“Go on home, Sam. You’ve faced the ghosts you needed to face. Now it’s time for you to go home to Dean,” she brushed a final kiss over his cheek before stepping back. “Love you, Sam Winchester.”

This time as Sam’s hand opened the door there was no pain, no light or sickening rush in his stomach. There was just cold, an eerie cold that made him shiver deep and pull his jacket tight around him.

Dean’s voice was loud as if Sam could just reach out to touch his brother if he could see him but there was no sign on Dean anywhere as he took in the rustic cabin he was no in that reminded him of Rufus’s cabin.

He and Dean hadn’t been back here since they’d moved into the Men of Letters bunker so at first Sam couldn’t understand why he’d be here since the last time he looked he and Rufus hadn’t had anything to settle.

Then all of Sam’s thoughts went away as he caught sight of the back of the tall, gaunt looking man in a black suit and cane standing near the fireplace.

“Hello, Sam,” Death greeted casually as he turned to face the paling hunter. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

A burst of burning agonizing pain shot through Sam’s body, taking him to his knees with a scream. He could heard Dean’s voice in his head shouting for him, telling him to reach out but yet he was unable to move and with some fear as Death continued to gaze at him calmly Sam understood…he was dying and his brother couldn’t save him.

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: I know. I’m fixing this next chapter. No one panic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter and trust me. I’m making it right. Deep breath, read and thanks for your patience in waiting for this final chapter.

**Chapter Two**

“ ** _Sammy_**!” Dean Winchester was torn between shooting the doctors who didn’t seem to be doing a damn thing for his crashing brother or trying to see if a Reaper could die from a bullet in the skull when the one behind him laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your boss would rather take his pound of flesh out on Sam?” he demanded tightly, cringing every time those paddles shocked his little brother and Sam’s limp body jerked. “He’s pissed off at me! I’ll let him claim my life if he just lets Sam live, dammit!”

“Oh my boss is still very much pissed off at you, Dean,” the Reaper replied eyeing what was happening in the room critically before narrowing his eyes a moment before the heart monitor, which had been flat lining, began a slow but present heartbeat. “There is, however, a bit more involved than just trading your life for your brother’s.”

Dean shot the Reaper a glare, jerking his hand off his shoulder to confront the first doctor brave enough to step close to him. “How’s my brother and spare me the ‘his fate’s in God’s hands’ line.”

The same doctor who had spoken to Dean earlier glanced at the new test results while also taking into account this latest issue. “Mr. Winchester,” he began grimly, never finding this conversation easy to start but he could already see how badly this young man would take it. “I told you earlier that we could find no reasonable cause for your brother’s condition or why he continues to get worse. The cardiogram just down once his heart started beating again shows weakening. The last blood test results came back with some form of blood poisoning that we can’t decipher.

“Sam is dying slowly, Mr. Winchester and I’m afraid there’s very little we can do to halt that. I can’t tell you how long he has because he is struggling to hang on but…I won’t lie to you. You need to spend the time now with him saying goodbye,” he glanced at the strange new arrival before placing a hand on a shaking shoulder. “We’ll do everything possible to make him comfortable.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Doctor,” the Reaper moved suddenly to edge the doctor out of the room before he had to collect another soul. “Dean appreciates that but you’ll understand why telling him that and still being in his line of sight is probably not a healthy thing for you.”

Pushing the doctor out of the room to shut the door firmly in his face, the Reaper leaned against the door to blow out a breath. “Damn. It’s a goddamn amazing that my kind doesn’t collect more of his kind,” he muttered, turning to watch Dean pull a chair back closer to the bed but before he sat down in it he took a damp cloth to wipe over Sam’s face. “Dean…”

“So, no amount of begging, pleading, deal making or promising will save Sammy this time, is that what you’re telling me?” he asked without looking behind him, wiping the cloth down his brother’s arm before taking his hand in his to hold it tightly. “He’s Death! He doesn’t have a choice or is he just trying to make a point to me? Because if that’s his game, you can go tell your boss that it won’t matter because right after Sam dies and I take him away from here I will load the Impala with so much gas and TNT and ram her over the first cliff I find.”

“Yeah, that’s the popular consensus of what you’ll do,” the Reaper sighed, running a hand back through his hair. It’s not a matter of Death choosing to take Sam or not, Dean. It’s a matter of Sam wanting to come back, to him being able to reach through the veil now to find you and whatever the hell the trials did to him. Believe it or not, even my boss has limits.”

Reaching into his pocket to remove the needle of blood he’d drawn from Crowley earlier, Dean stared at it for several long moments. “Can you…can you tell me if he’s…alright?” he asked, unsure of what he wanted to know. “I mean, where he is now, is he in pain? Or is the pain gone?”

Considering his responses carefully, the Reaper stepped closer but not close enough to be considered a threat. “No, he’s still in pain because he’s not in the light. Since Heaven and Hell are both sort of in flux right now we’re not even certain where souls will go but right now Sam is trying to fight his way back to you but the boss wanted to give one final test and we’re not certain Sam is strong enough to breach the veil to come back without help.”

“Sammy can’t even find peace when he’s dying,” Dean snorted, squeezing his brother’s hand again while watching Sam’s face for signs of movement or even a flicker under closed lashes. “What…what do I have to do?”

“What makes you think I have the answer for that?” the Reaper countered, rolling his eyes when sharp green ones pinned him with a look that spelled lethal. “You’re a big part in getting Sam back but…there’s more needed this time than just some big brother magic. The Angel wasn’t lying when he said Sam was changed on a level beyond normal healing.”

Dean followed his eyes to where the syringe of blood laid on the bed and he frowned. “He was so happy to think the trials were purging him of this crap. To save my brother I have to risk him hating me for reinfecting him with the very damn demon blood he never asked for or wanted,” he moved to sit on the bed beside Sam. “Hey, little brother, can you hear me at all, Sammy?” he asked quietly, letting his other hand stay on his brother’s neck.

“I need to talk to you about something, Sam. I know you probably can’t hear me but if you can then I hope one day, if you ever find out about this, that you’ll understand why I did it,” he kept Sam’s hand tight in his and guessed it was wishful thinking when he thought for just a moment he felt a slight response to his grip.

“I’m not the best big brother to you, Sammy. I’ve tried to be. From the second I first saw you in Mom’s arms I knew that I’d never let you fall and that I’d always protect you. I’ve tried my damn best over the years to do that but I’ve screwed it up. I screwed it up big the night I let you do these trials but if this is my only way to heal you, to get you back then I will,” Dean took the syringe in his hand but didn’t remove the safety tip over the needle.

“I don’t know if giving you this will help or hurt, Sam. I wish you could tell me what to do because I don’t want to lose my pain in the ass little brother like this but I also don’t want to risk you going through full blown demon blood withdrawal again either,” that was Dean’s biggest fear if he used this last resort option.

He could still recall what the blood did to Sam and the two times he had to lock his brother down in Bobby’s old Panic Room had been hard on both of them.

Sam had been through so much in the past few years that Dean didn’t think he could survive another withdrawal attack, especially with as weak and pale as he seemed right now. “Any promises that this will work even if I inject him with this stuff?” he asked the Reaper.

“I collect souls, Winchester. I’m not a mindreader or a healer by trade,” the man returned sourly with another sigh. “You’re not injecting him with straight demon blood since Crowley’s blood has been diluted with Sam’s own blood which has…who knows what in it now so…odds are 50/50 it works or it might heal him to wake him up but…”

“I liked Tessa a lot better than you,” Dean grumbled, carefully easing Sam’s arm over to see all the veins painfully clear under skin so thin these days. “You’re gonna come home to me now, little brother. You’re going to come home so we can get back to Kevin who may or may not still be in the bunker by this point and you’re going to let me take care of you until you’re back on your feet,” he reached for a cotton ball and some alcohol to sterilize the best vein he could find.

“I’m going to keep this promise, Sammy. Nothing and no one will ever come before you and I will never make you think that I’d choose someone else over my own blood…over the brother that’s been mine since the first time Mom let me feel you kick and damn it, kid I should’ve known then you’d grow up tall cause you had one helluva kick on you,” he kept talking as he took another look at the needle before slowly inserting the tip into the best vein while offering a silent apology to his brother.

Dean watched the syringe depress slowly to inject the diluted blood into Sam’s arm and then as he pitched it in with other needles for disposal all he could do was hope the blood was diluted enough not to harm Sam but still had enough of something left to maybe counter effect whatever it was hurting his brother.

“Now what do I do?” he asked the silent Reaper, rubbing a hand over the spot on Sam’s arm where the needle had been as if trying to feel if it was having any effect but so far Sam still felt as cold and still as he had.

“You wait,” was the grim reply.

Waiting had never been one of Dean Winchester’s favorite traits or things to do. Even as a toddler he hadn’t been a patient child or so his Dad would occasionally tell him.

As he sat or paced the hospital room while the quiet Reaper sat in a corner apparently playing on an actual cellphone, Dean could recall how impatient he’d gotten waiting for his little brother to be born. For a few days, when Sam was late, Dean couldn’t count the times he’d asked his parents when Sammy, because he was already Sammy to him, was coming.

“‘ _Your brother clearly isn’t running at your speed, champ_ ,’” his Dad had laughed after one time when Dean had crawled between his parents to lay his hands on Mary’s belly to firmly ‘tell’ his too slow sibling to come out of Mommy.

“I have been waiting on you since before you were born, Sam,” he spoke suddenly, turning from the window to walk back over to sit in the chair to look at the still pale and unmoving face. “You were four days late being born and then it seemed to take forever before Mom brought you home.”

Dean slid his hand around Sam’s again to hold it tightly but was slowly coming to feel that he’d been too late using the blood. It was going on three days since he’d injected Sam and yet the doctors could still see no sign of improvement and would just tell Dean to be prepared for when the end came.

He was prepared for that in the form of the .45 caliber Colt he’d snuck through security this morning after returning from a quick shower and shave but now as Dean sat still to think and remember he was coming to the conclusion that he didn’t want Sam dying in a damn sterile hospital.

“He’s not going to wake up is he?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer. “Can he hear me?”

“Yes, he can hear you and he’s trying to reach for you but…something’s keeping him from breaking the last veil,” the Reaper honestly wasn’t sure what that was since he’d been fairly certain his boss wouldn’t keep the younger Winchester from returning or maybe it was a matter of this one proving his own words. “I can’t answer on the other except to say that the longer this takes the less likely it seems.”

They had enemies in both Heaven and Hell so Dean figured any number of people would like to see them tore apart like this. Though to keep Sam trapped wherever he was like this, to let him hear Dean but keep him unable to wake up was not something the elder brother was going to stand for.

“Let him go or take him but either way let it be his choice,” Dean spoke to the room in general and whoever else might be listening but then his attention returned to his brother. “One more question and then…then I guess you can do whatever it is you’re still around to do,” he paused. “Am I holding him here? Is it me that’s keeping him from moving on?”

“I…don’t know,” the Reaper answered honestly, understanding why these two made Tessa so upset at times. “I honestly don’t know what’s happening now and I’m still here in case…”

Dean got what that meant. In case he did pull the trigger on himself which was still what he planned because he’d struggled to live without his brother before and wouldn’t put himself or anyone else through that again.

Of course if Sam could hear him, then that meant his brother also knew what Dean would probably do if he died and he didn’t want Sam holding on just to keep him alive.

“Get out,” he told the Reaper in a tone that was pure Dean, rough and stern. “Unless you can tell me what’s going on in his head or what it’ll take to wake him up then I don’t need you in here anymore. I…this is between us.”

The Reaper started to object since his mission hadn’t been called off but finally nodded. “Fine, I’ll be outside but…whatever you do, do it quick.”

Ignoring that, Dean laid his Colt and his switchblade on the bed within easy reach while taking a deep breath. “Makes me wish for a Ouija board to see if you could talk to me, Sam…but the asshole I just kicked outta here says you can hear me so if you can I hope you can hear this.

“I love you, little brother. No, I’m not possessed and yes, I said the three words you hardly ever heard growing up but I guess if you needed to hear them it would be now. I meant everything I told you earlier, Sammy. I’m sorry I let things get so damn bad between us that you thought that I didn’t care if you lived or died because we both know how this will play out but…that’s on me now,” he offered another squeeze to Sam’s hand before taking the switchblade to flick it open. “All of this is on me, Sam. Not you. None of this is your fault.

“It’s time you let go of all the damn guilt because you never asked for any of this crap to hit you. You never asked for your childhood to be taken away, for Mom to die, for Dad to turn all Drill Sergeant or for any of the rest of it to happen,” Dean applied enough pressure on his palm to draw blood before doing the same to Sam’s palm without caring or considering any risk.

He pressed their palms together like he had when his little brother had seen it on TV once and went on a stubborn eight year old tirade that they needed to do the same ritual despite Dean’s best attempts to tell him they were already blood brothers.

“I told you the day we did this the first time that it bonded us on a deeper level and while back then I said it because it seemed to be the right thing to say to make you happy, I’m saying that no matter if you’re blood wasn’t purged or anything it doesn’t matter to me because the blood in your veins, Sammy, is that same blood that’s in mine. We share that blood just like we do everything else and I’m not leaving you, choosing over you, or letting anything…Heaven, Hell, Angels, whatever, come between us again,” he promised, holding onto the hand tightly and making his next decision.

“I’ve done everything I can now it’s up to you, Sammy. I can’t promise how you’ll be when you wake up and I will say that no matter how you are that I’ll be beside you to get you over it but…in the end, it’s your choice. You can reach through whatever it is holding you back, reach for my hand and know that I’ll always have your back.

“I will have your back on a hunt, I’ll hold you up when you fall and…I’ll kick the no chick flick moments rule to the curb for a year to handle the nightmares or aftereffects,” Dean supposed he could handle that since he’d kicked that rule to the sidelines more times than he cared to count when his brother had been younger and hyper emotional. “Or…you can take the choice to move on and be at peace.”

Dean heard his voice break on that one but swallowed the lump that came because it was time he thought of Sam and not himself, even though using the blood kind of diminished that idea. “I’ll be truthful and say I don’t want you to die but then you’re my pain in the ass baby brother and that’s my prerogative not to let you die but I also don’t want you hanging on just because you’re worried about me.

“You’ve done so much to take care of others and I’m proud of you, baby boy. I’m proud of the man you’ve become after everything you’ve faced and…it’s time to think for yourself now, Sammy. It’s time to choose for yourself and not for me or for Dad or for what we were taught but for you,” the fingers of Dean’s other hand shook this time as they went over Sam’s face, feeling wetness from what he could’ve sworn were tears. “If you want to let go and go find that light then you let go. You let go of all of this and maybe you’ll finally find the happy ever after I always told you existed out there somewhere.”

Feeling and ignoring the tears on his face, Dean kept his eyes on Sam’s face before finally shifting away a little to pick up the Colt. “You’ve done enough for this damn world, Sammy. We both have,” he stared at the gun in his hand. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever told you that if your soulless self wouldn’t have showed up when he had I probably would’ve ended it by the end of that week.

“Sammy, you have saved my life so many damn times without even realizing it and…hell, who am I lying to, I want you to come home, little brother,” he whispered, tears dropping onto his hand when he went to raise the Colt a little. “Come home, Sam.”

** Elsewhere: **

“Hello, Sam. I’ve been waiting for you,” Death rarely made an actual appearance but for some reason he made exceptions for the Winchesters, though he’d never actually spoken to the younger one before.

Gasping as his body sang out with pain and he could hear his brother’s voice in the distance getting more to the point where desperation and stupidity often went hand in hand, Sam stared at the Angel of Death, the final Horseman raised by Lucifer.

Sam had faced a lot of things since learning the truth about his Dad’s life, what he’d been destined to for, what had happened in the past few years but it had been a long time that anything but a clown could bring the type of fear that built in his heart now.

To see Death standing so casually in front of him as whatever the trials did worked painfully against his brother’s attempts to pull him back, Sam closed his eyes.

“I…I thought I still had a chance of surviving,” he murmured tightly, fingers wrapping tight to the bracelet on his wrist.

Death watched the younger man calmly. He could see the pain in him just like he could see what he’d been through recently and it never failed to amaze him that such normal humans could endure so much as these two young men had over the years.

It was his job to know when it was someone’s time to die and yet for some reason he and the other powers that be always made exceptions for the Winchesters. Death had once explained to Dean the damage they’d done to natural selection and he also enjoyed teasing the older boy but Death had also seen the length to which Dean would go to save Sam.

Now he wanted to see how far Sam would be willing to go to save himself.

“You still have a chance, Sam,” he confirmed with an easy nod, waving a hand to bring a hair closer as he sat while gazing as Sam and made another motion of a finger to relieve the pain. “If you decide to fight to return, if you choose to risk any side effects that may linger…that may affect you from your attempt to protect humanity, if you choose to go back to Dean…then you may. Or you can choose to finally let go of the pain and guilt and pass over.”

Staring at Death warily, Sam rubbed his arm as he slowly stood up but realized his brother’s voice was still getting louder. “What…what do you mean pass over? Like in die for real?” he shifted to keep some distance between himself and Death while also trying to see where Dean’s voice was the loudest.

“Yes. You can choose to pass through the door to your left and go into the light,” Death nodded to the door that suddenly appeared to Sam’s left. “Granted Heaven’s a little confused right now and I can’t say for you how under the little toad’s radar you’d be since anytime a Winchester enters Heaven it causes ripples but you might get lucky,” he smoothed a hand over the handle of his cane.

“Even after everything I’ve done, what’s in me or was in me or still is…I’d go to Heaven?” Sam asked hesitantly, a little unsure since he’d been certain no one would allow him into Heaven.

“Sam, even Death can pull strings and you still have certain friends in certain high places that would pull those strings to allow you the peace of death after all you’ve been through,” the Angel of Death replied simply, cool eyes never leaving the hunter’s face. “Of course, by choosing that choice you’d never see Dean again.”

There was the look Death had been waiting for on the young man’s face. The sudden look of pure fear and buried panic at the thought of never seeing his older brother again.

“What? Why?” Sam’s mind only considered that peace for a half second because in some way he was worried about the affects lingering if her woke up and didn’t want to be a burden on his brother. “If I can get into Heaven after the whole demon blood thing and letting Lucifer out then my brother, the original chosen vessel for Heaven’s precious Michael, should have the same pass,” he argued, grabbing a chair for stability when Death’s hand moved and a window turned milky only to clear to give him a better view into the living world.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he saw himself lying in a hospital bed attached to wires and monitors. He realized how bad he looked but as Sam looked closer it hit him hard how much worse his brother looked.

It always concerned Sam when Dean looked pale, haggard and unshaven because the only times his brother never shaved were times when Sam was too sick or hurt to be left alone or…Dean was scared to leave him.

Now as he viewed the hospital room from outside, he watched with tears in his eyes as his hard as nails, anti-emotional older brother held his hand while speaking in a broken voice and tears on his face.

Though what caught Sam’s attention was the Colt that was in his brother’s hand, realizing that Dean was telling him that he could move on if he wanted but it was the whispered ‘come home’ that tore Sam’s heart.

“Suicide is frowned upon and even my pull wouldn’t be enough to cross Dean over if he kills himself,” Death told him grimly, stepping up to view the scene beside Sam. “He called to me earlier. Offered himself in your place if I spared your life from this.”

Sam laid a hand on the window. “If I take the choice to cross…he’ll die but if I go back he could be sidled with me if the effects of the trials stay with me,” he wanted his brother but the fear of being a burden was strong.

“You would never be a burden to Dean, Sam,” Death informed him, both watching Dean speak to Sam brokenly with a loaded weapon in his hand; intent plain. “He’s willing to exchange his life for yours if I were to take him up on it.

“I can heal you with no effects and take Dean up on his offer or…”

“No,” Sam snapped, whirling to face the gaunt man with a hand poised to grab his tie when a burst of remembering who and what this was hit him. “No, because I don’t want to go back without my brother being there or knowing that he gave his life for me again. What…what do I have to do to choose to go back and you don’t take him?” he demanded, going on quickly. “I’ll accept whatever affects there have to be, I’ll do whatever you want just…don’t take Dean.”

Death watched the scene in the window before it faded away slowly to gaze at Sam thoughtfully. “I’m curious Sam, what exactly would you do to save your life?” he asked finally. “I know what Dean has done to save you, and while some may see it as foolish or stupid I see it as more of just saving you from more pain in the long run but the question is…what would you do?”

“Nothing,” Sam replied simply, fingers once again closing on the bracelet. “Ask me what I’ll do to save my brother because then I’d give you anything that I could. I’m not saying that I want to die because I don’t. I’m not ready.

“I don’t want him to deal with the consequences of whatever this will bring alone and I don’t want Dean dead either so tell me what I have to do to save us both or take us both,” he shrugged as he felt an odd sensation of warmth for the first time since waking up here. “I guess it’s an either or thing, Sir. I won’t live or die without him. Maybe everyone is right about this codependent thing but it’s all I know.”

Death walked back to the fireplace slowly to consider this interesting turn. “What’s happening now, the influx upstairs isn’t actually your fault for a change,” he told Sam grimly, turning around. “Tell your brother the next time he calls to bargain with me to bring along some fried pickles at least and…the door behind me will take you home, Sam.”

“Huh?” Sam blinked in confusion. “Just like that? I can go home and you won’t take Dean?”

“Ah, now there’s the Winchester suspicion that I’ve been waiting to see in you,” Death’s lips actually seemed to curve a little. “I don’t think either side is ready to handle Dean. He seems much happier if you’re with him. Plus, it was your choice this time to stay or go home as you say so if that truly is your choice then step through the door behind me and remember…whatever Dean does it’s always with your best interest at heart.”

Sam was still uncertain but when he heard Dean’s tone drop again he didn’t care what he’d face. He just wanted to go home and hopefully make this right.

Stepping to the door behind Death, the younger hunter closed his hand over the knob to turn it slowly. Sam opened it to the familiar rushing white light sensation and then…

** Back in the room: **

The steady noise in the room didn’t change and after waiting several heartbeats, Dean blew out a shaky breath before whispering a silent goodbye to the brother he’d raised and protected while going to shove the gun under his jacket until he was sure he was alone when a slight movement under his hand had him looking down.

“Sam? Sammy?” he spoke softly as if worried he hadn’t seen the movement of fingers around his. “You coming back, little brother?”

The monitors seemed to pick up in activity but it seemed like forever as Dean’s eyes watched before he finally caught what he’d been waiting for. He saw the first little movement behind Sam’s closed lids as his lashes fluttered a few times before struggling to open.

“Sammy?” he gripped the hand that was trying to return the action tighter, wanting to offer reassurance that his brother wasn’t alone as he tried to wake up. “That’s it, kiddo. Come on out all the way and look at me now.”

The pain he’d been in since meeting Death in the dreamscape had ebbed off the surer Sam became with his choice of returning to his body and to his brother even though making that final grab toward Dean had nearly seemed impossible at times he’s finally pierced the veil when Dean’s voice broke.

Death had made it plain that things were all messed up and for once it wasn’t their entire fault but he’d mainly wanted to tell Sam to inform Dean to stop trying to make deals with him without at least offering some decent fried pickles.

Sam wasn’t sure what his brother had been doing but he could guess it probably wasn’t good. Right then though all he wanted was to feel his body and take the consequences of whatever happened or would happen so long as he wasn’t alone.

His lashes fluttering against his cheek, Sam’s eyes slowly opened to blink several times before his vision was able to clear the haziness away to see worried upset green eyes as Dean stared down at him and for Sam to see his brother right now meant… “… …Home.”

** Three Days Laters, some unknown woods: **

“Remind me again how in the hell I let you talk me into this?” Dean grumbled, balancing two much crap on his back and in his arms since he’d decided he wasn’t making more trips than he had to. “What was wrong with a warm bed in the bunker since you just got out of the damn hospital?”

He dropped the duffels, the extra bags of stuff he’d determined they could not live without for a night while slitting his eyes. “Where’d that bag of marshmallows go?”

“You gave in because you’re an awesome big brother and it’s what I wanted to do before we got sucked into the whole Heaven falling problem,” Sam went to move to help his brother only to shoot him a bitchface when a single finger shot out to warn him to stay where he’d been put. “I’m not an invalid, Dean.”

“No, you nearly died, nearly had me convinced you weren’t waking up, and you’ll still weak so just stay put while I see if I can actually remember how to put this damn thing together,” Dean shot back, eyeing the pieces of the large tent he’d bought when finally giving in to his little brother’s puppy eyed plea to go camping again. “Why couldn’t we have slept in the Impala?”

Sam ignored that because he’d already answered that near whine six other times. He’d been surprised when Dean had given in to his out of the blue request since he’d gotten the hint early on when his brother had snarled multiple times at the confused doctors that Dean was back in hyper manic over protective big brother state.

Waking up had been slow and explaining it to the confused doctors hadn’t been easy but after a day of final testing came back with no conclusive results, they’d allowed Sam to sign himself out with just warnings to watch for relapses.

He still felt tired and weak most of the time but each day Sam did feel stronger. He was pleased there hadn’t been any pain like before and hoped after a while the weakness in his hand and legs would go away so he could hunt without fear of putting Dean at risk.

Right then he was sitting on a log in front of the fire Dean had built first sneaking marshmallows from the bag while watching his brother struggle with the tent.

Sam hadn’t asked Dean anything else about what happened after he passed out nor had Dean asked him anything though he knew the questions would come sooner or later. He’d just decided to follow his Dad’s advice and ask Dean to take him camping.

Even though they had more important things to do, a prophet back at the bunker wielding a crossbow and the King of Hell under lockdown, Sam wanted this small time after nearly losing it.

“Why would you even want to come camping in the middle of the woods?” Dean was asking even if he really didn’t mind the plan…not that he’d ever admit that. “I could’ve put a tent up somewhere in the Batcave and burnt hotdogs if that would make you happy.”

“Dad said he wouldn’t have burnt those hotdogs if you hadn’t tried to make me bait for something,” Sam spoke up, not missing the way Dean tensed before shifting enough to look at him closely. “Dad’s the one who said to tell you to take me camping.”

Running his tongue over his teeth at that announcement, Dean guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Yeah, well…it kept you outta the way while he got the tents up,” he muttered, stepping back to see if the tent in question would stay up and grinned when it did. “You saw Dad?”

“I saw Dad, Ellen and…Jess,” Sam was quiet when he admitted the last name but again also didn’t miss the definite way his brother’s shoulders tensed this time. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Dean?” he asked softly, fingers running over the thing that he’d found in his other hand upon waking up.

“Tell you what?” Dean deadpanned with a bad feeling he suspected his brother had picked up a couple things he hadn’t been supposed to know. “You going to give me those marshmallows to cook later or should I just be glad I bought two bags?”

Sam’s fingers tightened on the bag in a clear answer that he wasn’t giving them up before answering. “Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you came to Stanford that night?”

“I did. Dad was missing and I didn’t want to look for him alone,” Dean countered but sighed heavily when he went to turn only to be hit in the face with a marshmallow. “Cute. Your aim’s getting better.”

“Jess called you, Dean. Why didn’t you tell me that?” Sam asked again, suspecting he knew the answer but still needing to see if his brother would admit it.

Gazing at Sam for a couple seconds before popping the marshmallow in his mouth, Dean decided he seriously hated ghosts that liked to talk. “Because I didn’t want it to hurt you,” he finally replied, going to sit on the ground in front of the fire but in front of the log where Sam sat. “I knew at first you would’ve gotten angry that I was checking up on you and that’s all I meant it to be at first.

“Jessica’s call caught me offguard but…some stuff she said made me worried so I said I’d come to check it out. Then Dad vanished so I used that as an excuse and I figured I’d check on things in Stanford after but it didn’t work out like that,” tossing a couple more sticks into the fire, Dean kept his eyes on it rather than Sam for the moment. “After the fire, after Jessica died, I didn’t tell you about her fears or why I was there because I knew you felt guilty enough and I wasn’t going to add to it.”

He turned enough so that he could look up into Sam’s eyes, seeing the expected sadness but not the anger he expected though. “She was worried about you, Sammy. That’s why she called me and why I came. I wish I could’ve seen the danger for what it was and maybe saved her from…”

“No, Jess was right when she said nothing I could’ve done would’ve saved her. I think Brady probably had decided to kill her even before we met,” easing off the log to sit beside Dean, Sam offered the bag of fluffy snacks. “I loved her, Dean…but she was right. I wasn’t happy.”

Dean opened his mouth but shut it to allow Sam to speak at his own speed, putting a hand on the back of his brother’s neck in unspoken comfort.

“I’d always wanted to go to school, to be normal but until the night I got on the bus I never once considered that it would cost me my family,” he glanced over at Dean, the emotion plain in his hazel eyes. “I missed Dad but I missed you the most. I missed hunting with you and…I think even if Jess and I had gotten married, if I had gone to Law school…I wouldn’t have been happy.

“I was happy the night you came. I was thrilled to see you even though I didn’t let on and…so many times on the way back to Stanford from Jericho I wanted to say that I’d go with you but…it was so hard to let go of what I’d said I wanted,” Sam’s eyes blurred as he blinked the tears away. “If you hadn’t come back…”

“I went back because I was going to tell you the real reason I was there, Sammy,” Dean spoke up, using the hand on Sam’s neck to ease his brother against his shoulder to feel the cold that made Sam shiver. “When the radio started acting up I knew something was wrong. I wish I hadn’t left you there. I wish I’d gone up to the apartment with you and maybe…”

Sam allowed himself to relax against Dean’s shoulder even though he still wouldn’t release the bag of marshmallows fully. “Jess said she was gone even before I got home. Brady got her as she was leaving the campus so…I couldn’t have saved her,” he yawned and cursed the sleepiness he still felt. “I still felt the guilt of failing her but…it made it a little better to know that she didn’t blame me or hate me and that she…knew I wasn’t happy.”

“I wish it could’ve been different for you, Sammy,” Dean told him, still seeing the same boy in his brother as he had that night in Stanford. “I meant it when I said I sometimes wish you could have that innocence back.”

“We can’t change what was meant to be, Dean,” Sam yawned again, rubbing at his eyes. “I miss her but it’s time I stop living in the past and look to the now. We have fallen Angels on Earth and all the rest of this crap to handle but…Dean? Can you stop bugging Death? He scares the crap outta me.”

Chuckling a little, Dean nodded. “Yeah, well I’ll stop bugging Death when my pain in the ass little brother stops scaring me,” he returned lightly, reaching into the bag for a pack of hotdogs and some metal sticks to cook them on. “You wanna burn these now or sleep first?”

“Burnt hotdogs then marshmallows then sleep,” Sam smiled but then his eyes lit as he gazed between the two foods only to have his brother finally gain control of the now half empty bag.

“No, don’t even think it or else when we get back to civilization I am having your stomach x-rayed,” Dean flat out refused what he could clearly see building on Sam’s face. “We are not putting the marshmallows on the hotdogs and get your hand off the bag with the chocolate in it cause I’m the one with the weird eating habits,” he smirked at the mild bitchface. “Unknown side effect I don’t know about?”

“Or the effect of not eating for how many days?” Sam countered but settled back to allow Dean to stick the hotdogs on the two sticks, the collar of his jacket turned up against the evening chill. “Oh, I think this is yours…if you want it, that is. If you meant what you said.”

Giving a sideways glance to see what Sam was holding from his hand, Dean had to make a sudden grab to not lose either stick into the fire as he took in the horned bronze amulet dangling. “ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he whispered, reaching out to brushing the amulet he’d foolishly thrown away more than three years ago his eyes shot to see Sam watching him with hope in his own gaze. “Can I…”

“I gave it to you and as far as I’m concerned it’s still yours…if you want it back,” Sam murmured, lump in his throat while watching the flashes of emotions crossing Dean’s face. “It hurt so much when you dropped it in that can. I took it out but never felt safe giving it back to you. Do you want it back, De’n?”

Sitting the food aside to first gently remove the black cord from his brother’s clenched fingers; Dean slipped the amulet back around his neck before reaching out to pull Sam in for a hug. “Worst mistake I ever made was throwing this away, Sammy and I regretted it as soon as I did it,” he replied thickly, feeling Sam’s arms shaking when they finally went around him to hold on and finally the emotions that his brother had buried for months came out with a broken sob he tried to cover. “I’ll never take this off again, little brother.”

The fear of not making it back, of not getting to come home had been huge in Sam but he’d covered it. Even after waking up he hadn’t been able to tell Dean how scared he’d been at not making it back and while he suspected his brother had done something else to help him he wasn’t asking for the moment and would take this time for what it was and for what it brought.

“I just wanted to come home, Dean,” he spoke after a couple minutes of silence, not breaking his grip on Dean when he realized his older brother had sat back and was allowing the scene to take place. “I was so damn scared and just wanted you there but…”

“I was right there with you, Sammy,” Dean assured him, shifting Sam so he could still keep an arm around him to support him when he felt him leaning into him more while using his other to hold the hotdogs over the fire to cook them…or burn them, whatever came first. “I wouldn’t have left you alone for long but you did come home and we’re gonna find Cas and deal with whatever the hell is going on just like we always have.”

“Together,” Sam murmured, fingers closing over the amulet like he would years ago. “Hunting things, saving people, the family business. I want that again, Dean.”

Dean knew it probably wouldn’t be that simple but he’d give Sam what he could and fight to keep the kid safe from whatever came at them because he wasn’t losing Sam like he’d almost lost him again. “As soon as we fix Heaven and figure out what to do with Crowley in our dungeon…that’s what we’ll be doing, Sammy,” he promised with a sigh. “Burnt hotdogs.”

Sam’s laugh was pure as he took in the nearly black hotdog but as he ate it he could feel their Father’s gaze from somewhere and knew it was all good again. “I still think Dad would’ve let me put it between marshmallows,” he teased lightly, feeling the light slap to his head but not caring since it also got his brother to laugh.

“Dad might have but I at least know what makes your stomach tick and you are not eating that…bitch,” Dean countered, grabbing for the back with chocolate and graham crackers in it. “I’ll show you how to eat marshmallows right while camping.”

“Jerk, and I know how to make S’mores,” Sam tossed back, sleepy but happy and hoping it stayed that way as he watched Dean make a mess and glad he made the choice he had to come home.

Later that night, Dean lay awake on top of his sleeping bag while watching to make sure Sam would stay asleep after his brother finally fell to sleep after too much chocolate and marshmallows.

Sam still looked pale but most of the sick shallowness in his face was being replaced and while Dean knew it would take his brother time to regain his strength and lost health but he felt good that Sam would get better and would take what came from the blood injection when it happened so long as Sam was alive and smiling for the moment.

He reached over to pull the blanket up over Sam after he’d tossed it aside to also keep a hand on his brother’s neck to feel him relax more. “Thanks for coming home, Sammy…and I’ll keep this promise. It’s going to be better from now on…cause I’m also making you explain crap to Cas when he starts asking.”

A little brother, a prophet, a quirky redhead, since Dean was sure Charlie should be landing on his doorstep soon, and an Angel with no clue how to be human were all sure to remind Dean why he picked a bad decade to slow down his drinking he was sure.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this one. I hope you enjoyed it and the risk to Sam didn’t scar anyone too badly. Remember, if you’d like look me up on Facebook under morgana07 and watch for new stories coming soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Ducks. I know, I know. This looks bad and yes, I am evil for cliffhanging it here but it wouldn’t be a cliffhanger if it wasn’t dramatic. Just trust me and remember that I don’t write death fics so I will fix this… somehow.


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